


Love Favors the Bold

by Conzieu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Auror Harry, Auror Training, HP: EWE, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Language, Oral Sex, Pining, Potions, Promiscuity, backroom sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:32:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conzieu/pseuds/Conzieu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his seventh year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter developed a fascination for his Potions Professor. Five years later, an adult Harry still wistfully thinks about Severus Snape. When they meet again, Harry finds his attraction undiminished but is at a loss on how to proceed to get what he wants. Luckily, pursuit is easy when the prey is willing to get caught.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Favors the Bold

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the Snarry Glomp Fest, for Wonderluck.
> 
> I like to believe Harry and Ginny remained close friends after their doomed romance fizzled. I like her both in the cheering section and the peanut gallery! I hope this pleases…

**Love favors the bold**

  
For the first year following Hogwarts, Harry had done exactly what was expected of him, what he indeed expected of himself. He had continued dating Ginny Weasley, and gone into the Auror’s program.

He hit the first major snag in his life plan when Kingsley Shacklebolt asked some of the first year trainees to volunteer for a special assignment. Harry was one of them. There was a club in town suspected of knowingly allowing minors in, selling them alcoholic drinks, and allowing them to engage in sexual activity. Because he was small and thin, with the right glamour he could pass for underaged. He went undercover.

He was to serve as bait. He should make no secret of the fact that he was “only sixteen”, and try to purchase both a drink and some time in a room for an assignation.

It was not until he was provided with lilac low waist leather pants, an above the belly button see-through lime green shirt and a nipple ring that he realized the establishment catered to gentlemen of a certain persuasion only. His glamour changed little about his face, basically removing his scar, erasing his stubbles, and growing his hair long enough for a ponytail. An ophtalmowizard permanently corrected his vision to get rid of the tell-tale glasses (which he would have had to get done before graduating from the Auror Academy anyway) and he was ready.

He presented himself at the designated door and knocked. A small square aperture opened in the middle of it and an unshaved, rather threatening looking face appeared. Harry said he was a sixth-year at Hogwarts and had heard about a place where young people with his inclination could have a good time. He was admitted without problems.  
Strike one against the club.

He told the bartender (who was shamelessly checking him out) he was sixteen and shy, that this was his first time in a gay club, and asked what drink the bartender recommended to help him relax and lose some of his inhibitions. He was served a pink drink which, if need be, he could have used as lighter fluid. Strike two. He did drink a bit of it (to stay in character, of course), and when a guy asked him to dance, he went quite willingly, since from what he could see, in this place, ‘dancing’ (which he sucked at) was used as another word for standing around and grinding against each other to sensual music (which he figured he could manage).

He was a little surprised at himself when that activity gave him the biggest boner he’d ever had, but he was a twenty year old virgin, and a stiff wind could give him a hard-on. Later, when a guy he was grinding against cupped said hard-on in his hand and offered to give him a blowjob, he started leaking pre-come like he was paid by the pint and realized there might be more to his reaction than the stiff wind theory.

Doing the job he was there to do, he went to the bar and paid the bartender for the key to one of the upstairs rooms, leaving his fake student ID (which clearly indicated his age as sixteen) as collateral for the key. Strike three.

His job was done for the night. He would be able to testify to all three of the offenses he had been send to verify. So there was no logical reason for him to go up to the room with his dancing partner (who kept petting his bum in the most delightful way as they walked up the stairs) to get the blowjob, _or_ for him to stay and experience the joys of anal sex (twice, one from each point of view), except his sudden realization that it was definitely something he really, really wanted to do and really, really liked… And that he wanted to do it again, as soon as he got the chance, and as often as possible.

He confessed his newly discovered sexual preference to Ginny the next day because queer or not, he cared about her, and was always scrupulously honest.

She was relieved. She had known the thrill between them was gone, that they were together out of everyone’s expectations, and had not known how to get out of the relationship. She loved Harry, always had, always would, but she was much happier being his best friend than his girlfriend (and there was the small matter of one Draco Malfoy, with whom Ginny was in law school, and the fact that the unresolved sexual tension between them definitely threatened to catch their law books on fire).

The second snag in Harry’s life plan he hit when, after only months as an Auror, he realized that though he was excellent at it, he hated his job. Regularly exchanging curses with desperate wizards who wanted him dead was not to his liking.

So two years down the road, when the opportunity presented itself, he applied for continuing education, a six-month program that would take him off of active duty and teach him Crime Scene Investigation. He was accepted along with two of his colleagues, Romilda Vane, who had become a good friend, and Boris Alexandrovich Sidoff, a graduate from Durmstrang with the physique of a green bean and a sweet and humor-filled disposition.

Naturally, the first person he Floo-called with the good news was Ginny. Ron and Hermione lived in the States, where Hermione was getting a PhD in Arithmancy, and though they still were in touch, after three years apart, they were no longer as close as they had been. And there was the small matter of Ron thinking Harry’s homosexuality was a weird phase he should grow out of …

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Ginny! I got in!”

“Told you you would.”

“It’s so great. Romilda and Boris got in too. We start next week.”

“Cool. What’s on the program?”

“The first three months we study Data Collection and Magical Echo Recognition, Forensic photography, and Temporal calibration. The next three months, it’s Identification of Magical signatures, Legilimency and Memory Modification, and Forensic Potions.”

“Wow! Sounds interesting.”

“Yeah. I can’t wait.”

“Is it at the Auror Academy training facility?”

“Yes. We have to move back to the dorms. Individual rooms, though, so I don’t mind. I never really liked this apartment anyway.”

“Isn’t that going to curb your social life?”

“Well, we are going to be really busy, anyway. And I can go to Muggle dance clubs to have my needs met, so… no.”

“You are such a romantic.”

“I’ll leave the romance to you: ‘Oh, Draco’s so handsome! Oh, Draco’s so smart, Oh, Draco’s so sweet!”

“Hush up, you goofball. One day you’re going fall in love too and then…”

“Then you’ll do me a favor and do a _Finite Incantatem_ on me, then feed me a love potion antidote, because magic is the only way that’s ever going to happen.”

“You’re so sure of yourself!”

“Love is for straight people, Ginny.”

“That’s completely idiotic, Harry. There are some gay couples out there, you know that as well as I do.”

“Yes, and it makes no sense to me why queers should limit their options in such a way. So many boys, so little time…”

“Whatever. Tell me more about the program. Who teaches what?”

“No idea. It’s all taught by Unspeakables. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Moving back in the dorms and getting rid of his apartment was not a hardship. Contrarily to the other students, he was lucky enough to have Kreacher to take care of cleaning his room and doing his laundry, though the elf still officially lived at Grimauld Place, where he also kept house for the new occupants, Neville and Luna Longbottom, to whom Harry rented the house for a song. Harry certainly never wanted to live there.

The food was great and they got all their weekends off, which was a definite improvement over being an Auror on a rotating schedule. Harry found that Data collection and Magical Echo Recognition was tricky and tedious, but that if done in a logical and sequential manner, it could accomplish it well and relatively rapidly. Their teacher, a Gobblin named Grockgnast, was exacting but very good, with a wicked sense of humor.

Boris, who was easily distracted and had problem with linear thinking, had a very hard time with it though, so Romilda and Harry worked with him after hours to try to organize his chaotic mind.

Forensic photography was technically challenging, especially the developing of the pictures, but once again, Harry found that he could do it well. It was Romilda’s nemesis, though. Her magic seemed to cause the photos to blur while taking them and darken after developing, though she didn’t do anything wrong technically. It took a while for Unspeakable Alma Billings, the gorgeous witch who taught the subject, to get her to learn to control the wild bursts of magic that caused the problem.

Temporal calibration was where Harry had the most difficulty. The teacher, Unspeakable Harold Miller, was a tall, dark skin wizard. His explanations made no sense at all to Harry. Mysteriously, somehow, doing something unclear, you were suppose to be able to “feel” how long ago an event had taken place, and even arrange multiple events sequentially.

If it wasn’t for the fact that neither Romilda nor Boris had difficulties doing it, he would have thought the problem was in Miller’s teaching, but they both seemed to think he made perfect sense. However, Harry would stand in the middle of a crime scene, “Visualizing, Concentrating, Sensing, and Internalizing”, as instructed, to the best of his ability, and feel… nothing. It was horribly frustrating.

Romilda was particularly good at it. Close to an event, she could date it with unerring accuracy, with only minutes of marginal errors. She could sequence events up to an impressive eight. Boris did all right. His dating had a fifteen to twenty minutes margin, and he could sequence three or four major events, if they were not too close together. Harry had not a clue.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Miller’s going to have to fail me. I just can’t do it.”

“You still have a couple of weeks. Don’t be such a drama queen.”

“I haven’t gotten it in two and a half months. Why would I suddenly see the light?”

“Have Romilda and Boris tried to help?”

“Of course. I don’t get their explanations any more than Unspeakable Miller’s. I Visualize all I can, Concentrate until I’m blue in the face, Sense around like some radar, and try to Internalize whatever there is to internalize, and nothing. It’s sounds like total bullshit to me, like Trelawney’s third eye, or something, like it’s suppose to happen by magic.”

“Well, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Suppose to happen by magic?”

“No! You’re suppose to… Well shit. Of course it is. I am such a moron! Just like Apparating. Remember the lessons? What was it? Determination, Deliberation and whatever… But it’s magic, of course. A muggle couldn’t Apparate, no matter how Determined and Deliberate he tried to be. I’ve just been standing there like a Muggle, waiting for something to happen, not using my magic. Thanks, Gin. I gotta go.”

“Let me know how it goes?”

“Of course.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

It was 12:30 at night, but he threw on some sweats and a t-shirt, and made his way out of the dorms and to the training area. The Temporal Calibrating room was still set up from the earlier exercise. Someone had come in, placed a chair in the room, painted the word “Segment” on the wall, spilled a cup of water, and cast a couple warming spells.

In calibrating, they always were told what had happened. They were supposed to figure out when it had happened and in what sequence. Romilda and Boris had progressed beyond simple exercises like this one about two months ago. They now would travel to actual crime scenes, and calibrate real events.

Harry stood in the middle of the room, as he had for a couple of hours that day with no result whatsoever, and reached for his magic. Just like when he Apparated, he kept it right there, available, as he went through the prescribed steps of Visualization, Concentration, Sensing and Internalization.

He visualized someone coming in with a chair, as he had done that afternoon, except that this time he saw perfectly clearly that it was Bethie, Unspeakable Miller’s assistant who had come in with the chair _the night before._ and the water was already on the floor, though the word on the wall was not yet there. And he could feel the residual warmth of a warming spell, but not two.

He visualized her painting the word, but it didn’t work. Then he realized his error, and visualized “someone” painting the word, and it was Miller doing it himself, after the second warming charm had already been cast. That was this morning. He wrote on the board: 10:15 pm? Warming charm+15mn, glass of water+6mn, chair. 7:15 am: Warming charm+2mn writing on the wall.

He was so relieved he didn’t know what to do with himself. On one hand, he wanted to bang his head on the wall for having been so dense, on the other he wanted to dance a jig of joy. He settled for going back to bed and wanking to his favorite fantasy: Fucking Snape over his desk in seventh year detention.

Snape had looked a lot better during Harry’s seventh year than ever before. Apparently, almost dying had been good for him. Or maybe it was being free of both his masters, teaching DADA, receiving recognition from the world at large for his heroism and having students of all four houses look up to him. Harry had given him back his memories and had apologized for years of distrust and disrespect.

Snape had accepted his apology and had then treated him as any other student that next year, making it clear his old behavior had been based on necessity. It had been necessary for Voldemort to know Harry hated Snape, and for the young Slytherins to be able to report daily abuse of the Boy Who Lived at the hands of their Potions Master. Now their DADA professor, Snape had been an exacting and demanding but fair teacher. Still, Harry had received a few detentions.

He had not recognized until he had come to the sudden awareness of his sexual preference that the dichotomy of his feelings toward Severus Snape was based in part on attraction. Snape’s intelligence, his voice and the way he moved were sexy as hell. His snark, sarcasm, and unrestrained honest criticism had been painful, yet they showed he cared that Harry not rest on his “Putting an end to the Dark Lord” laurels, and had actually pushed him to excel.

Harry considered Snape one of the most remarkable men of his acquaintance and the thought that such a man could ever desire him sexually was very arousing. He would always imagine a scenario where Snape would be bend over searching for an ingredient on the lowest shelf of the store room, and where, unable to resist any longer, Harry would come behind him, lift his robes, lower his trousers and pants without so much as a by your leave and proceed to take him hard and fast, telling him how long he’d wanted to do so, and have Snape finally climax loudly, screaming “Fuck yes, Harry, yes!”

His own orgasm was always very satisfactory, long and hard, his come landing on his chest, and sometimes even on his chin…

The next day was very happy indeed. Harry demonstrated his newly acquired skills, to everyone’s relief, and joined his colleagues in the more complex exercises right away. In the subsequent two weeks, he had caught up to Boris, whose skills were honorable. Romilda just had a natural gift, and would always be better than most at it.  
At the end of the first three months, all three of them passed to the next stage. They were rewarded for their good work by a week of break for rest and relaxation.

Harry spent it clubbing in Muggle dance clubs. There, he loved the music, the press of bodies, and the absolute hedonistic atmosphere. In the few wizard clubs, one had to pay for a room, usually above the club, to have sex. The Muggle clubs had backrooms, which Harry loved despite the fact that he had to put up with using condoms. The absolute promiscuity, the public nature of the sex there and the anonymity made it amazingly worth it.

Also, despite the fact that he no longer wore glasses and that his face had matured so that he looked quite different than he did at eighteen, he still had to wear a glamour when he went out in the magical world, just in case. He had managed to mostly stay out of the public eye and keep his private life private but being recognized in a gay wizard club would definitely put an end to that.

Years of Quidditch in school and in the Auror’s amateurs team, as well as the demands of the original Auror’s training and the continuing high standards of physical fitness for all employees of the MLE, had given him, at age twenty five, a body that most men could only aspire to. His arresting green eyes, luminous skin and cocky grin did the rest. Having men respond to him when he looked like himself, telling him he was gorgeous when they saw his real face, and not a glamour, was an absolute turn on.

Monday came awfully fast and with it the new topics of studies: Identification of Magical signatures, Legilimency and Memory Modification, and Forensic Potions.

The first was taught by Unspeakable Rose Ollivander, who was apparently the wandmaker’s sister. Harry had always found him a bit creepy, but next to his sister, he was positively jolly. She was colorless. Not in the bright silver blond way of a Draco Malfoy, but in a transparent sort of way. Had she not been demonstratively solid, she could have easily passed for a ghost. Her eyes were wide spaced, clear grey, and looked right through you.

She showed them the copy of the wand registry they would be working with. It was enormous, and magical, and gave the names and wand description of every wizard ever to have been in Britain, either by being born here, or even just visiting. She demonstrated by opening the book at random. Francois Rabelais, Eleven inches, oak, dragon heartstring. Yoko Ono, ten and a quarter inches, Japanese maple, sea serpent scale.

So, if one was lucky enough to secure a magical signature during the Data collection and Magical Echo Recognition stage of an investigation, the book would produce a list of all wands (and therefore wizards) capable of leaving such a signature. She demonstrated by touching a stored Magical echo with her wand and tapping the book cover.

It opened to a list. It said Holly, eleven and a half inches, Veela hair, 207, followed by names.

“This is a rare wand, you understand,” she explained. Very few British wizard would use Veela hair, yet as you can see the list is long. One will have to refine the search.”

She demonstrated.

“Eliminate wizards dead over three years.”

The number went down to 17.

“You have to be careful not to eliminate your suspect. If the crime occurred twenty hours ago, he or she could have lost his or her life since. Eliminate all dead wizards, and he or she is gone…”

She went on.

“Eliminate foreign wizards.”

The number dropped to 3.

“You should eliminate any group you are absolutely sure your suspect does not belong to. Of course, your suspect might be French, and along with all the French tourists, you would eliminate him or her…”

She pointed to the list.

“May you always be so lucky as to get your list down to so few. At some point, you cannot refine it anymore, and you have to rely on other means of investigation to ascertain the presence of a suspect at the scene of a crime.”  
And apparently, there were many, which they would be studying with her in the subsequent weeks.

Legilimency and Memory modification would be taught at night, by another witch, Unspeakable Nathalie Parcel. She was highly allergic to sunlight, her father having been a newly turned Vampire. Aside from that annoying problem, she had only inherited from him the power to enthrall. Otherwise, she was perfectly human.

“I wasn’t born with a special gift at Legilimency, or Memory Modification. Like you, I had to learn them, and they are difficult to accomplish. Some of you might never become good at either, and that’s to be expected. Only one in ten can be expected to master both to any degree of usefulness, but in your day-to-day work, every little bit will help.

“Once in a while, I will uncover a gifted Legilimens. It is always a thrill. They are a rare bunch. To a true, powerful Legilimens, Memory Modification comes naturally. It is a frightening thing. But some of you, like me, might be able to train and become quite accomplished at both.”

Harry thought about the three Legilimens he had known: Voldemort, probably naturally gifted considering the strength of his power, Dumbledore, and Snape. He wondered about the last two. Had they had the gift, or had they just learned the skill?

“Does a gift for Legilimency always go hand in hand with one in Occlumency?” asked Harry, curious.

“Not at all. Occlumency always has to be learned. Some wizards have an affinity to it, but there are no natural Occlumens. True proficiency in Occlumency comes from learning to empty one’s mind through nightly practices and then enduring grueling hours of repeated brutal assault upon it by a strong Legilimens. Thankfully, it is not be part of our aim, here.

“Some Occlumency is needed to protect your mind from invasion when you are using Legilimency in a formal manner. However, just like legal interrogation under Veritaserum, formal Legilimency is controlled by law and practiced by a Ministry specialist.

“The level of Legilimency we aim to achieve here is nothing like that. It will teach you to recognize whether a witness is lying or hiding information. It might help you nudge their memories. It will thankfully not require you to learn Occlumency.”

Grueling training. Brutal assaults. Apparently Snape had not been a bad teacher after all. It was just the nature of the beast. Would Harry ever stop finding ways in which he had been unfair to that man?

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Promise me you won’t use Legilimency on me, ever!”

“Why? Do you make a habit of lying to me?”

“No, you idiot. It’s just creepy.”

“And here I was, hoping to search your mind for Draco/Ginny porn!”

“Harry! Just promise!”

“Of course, you weirdo. Unless some day you recover your senses, do away with the ferret, and I have to investigate the crime scene, I’ll never have a reason to use Legilimency on you anyway. And not even then, come to think of it, since I’d probably be the one you would call on to for help hiding the body!”

“The test of true frienship.”

“Absolutely. A friend helps you move. A true friend helps you move a body…”

“So what about Potions?”

“Forensic Potions.”

“What’s your teacher like?”

“A Master. Exacting. Demanding. Amazing. Fascinating.”

“Wow. He made an impression on you.”

“You could say that. It could have been his imposing physical presence, the way his robes seem to trail and wrap his body. His amazing voice, velvet on steel, or his elegant hands. Or his prominent nose, yellow crooked teeth and black oily hair…”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Snape!”

“Unspeakable Severus Snape, if you please.”

“Since when?”

“Since he left Hogwarts after our seventh year. It seems his research is invaluable. As an Unspeakable, his research is only ever interrupted by teaching Forensic Potions to future Crime Scene Investigators, every three years or so. We are actually his first group. Another Potions Master taught the last group, but the poor fellow seems to have met his end in some mysterious Potions accident since then. I don’t think Snape ever expected to have to teach again. Needless to say, he never in his wildest nightmares, ever expected to have to teach _me_ again.”

“He said that?”

“Not in so many word. His command of the English language and of his own body language is such that he can express himself extremely… succinctly.”

“What did he say?”

“Mr. Potter…”

“Mr. Potter? That’s it?”

“No. Not Mr. Potter. Miissst’r Pott’r. You know…”

“Well, didn’t he say, “Missss. Vane” and “Miissster. Sidoff”, as well?”

“No, no, no. He said: ‘Miissst’r Pott’r. Oh, Miss Vane! Lovely to see you again. And you must be Mr. Sidoff. I heard good things about you from Karenkzy. The research you assisted him with was truly fascinating…’ You’re laughing. I’m totally serious.”

“And what would you have done, had he said, Mr. Potter, lovely to see you again?”

“You have a point. I’d have fainted, most likely. Still.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Oh, yeah. Just like the good old days… Can you believe that this morning, not one of us managed to brew the potion he had assigned us? It was supposed to be an Artifact Dating potion, but it acted on me as a de-aging one: Three hours with Snape and I felt like a stupid teenager all over again.”

“Do you still have a crush on him?”

“What? I never had a crush on Snape!”

“Huh… Hello? Seventh year? We were dating remember? And in the same class?”

“So?”

“Well, I clearly remember the heated snogging in that little alcove just off the DADA classroom that _always_ followed our DADA lessons…”

“What did that have to do with Snape?”

“Probably as much as it had to do with Draco, with whom Snape _always_ seem to partner _me_ with…”

“You mean you were making out with me thinking of the ferret?”

“I think it was more… subliminal. The same way you were making out with me thinking of Snape.”

“I was not!”

“And in your spare time, you like to sail.”

“Huh?”

“The longest river in Africa. Da Nile.”

“Oh, ah, ah. You are so clever. And ever so original.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell me you don’t think he’s sexy.”

“Sexy? Snape? Come on!”

“All right you big fat liar. Tell me you have never tossed off thinking of Snape.”

“…”

“Aha!”

“I wanked thinking of _you_ , my dear. It means absolutely nothing.”

“You wanked thinking of me in _sixth_ year. When was the last time you wanked thinking of Snape?”

“…”

“Earth to Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Answer the question, you wimp!”

“OK. Fine. So maybe he is sexy. Stop laughing.”

“When, Harry?”

“What does it matter? Will you stop laughing?”

“Oh, Merlin, Harry. Come on, spill!”

“Fine. This afternoon, after class, in the loo right out of the laboratory. … And tonight, right before I called you. Stop laughing!”

“What are you going to do?”

"What do you mean, what am I going to do? Nothing! This is Snape, for Morgana’s sake! He’s not even gay! I’m going to chop my flobberworms, keep my head down, and try to do well, what else?”

“Draco says Snape’s gay.”

“He does!? Wait. When do you and Draco ever talk about Snape? About Snape’s _sexual orientation_?”

“It just came up.”

“Reeeealy.”

“Well, the other day, I was telling him about your little, “If I’m ever in love, _Finite Incantatem_ me, cause it would have to be a spell” speech, and he pointed out that you won’t fall in love with anyone else because you’ve been in love with Snape for, like, years.”

“There is a difference between thinking he is sexy, and being in love with him.”

“I’m telling you what Draco said, don’t shoot the messenger.”

“How would he know such a thing?”

“He said it was obvious, in seventh year.”

“That’s absurd. I didn’t even know I was gay, then!”

“Well, Draco’s gaydar is very… sensitive. Probably because his dad is gay, and he had to learn early in his childhood which _conversations_ in the library he could interrupt, and which he could not.”

“Wow.”

“So, he knew you were queer, and he says Snape is as well. So I think Snape is.”

“Ew… Did Snape and Draco’s dad…?”

“Draco says no. They were friends too long. You know, like you and George. You guys hang out, but you don’t… you know. Too weird or something.”

“Yeah. I could see that.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Nothing. I wouldn’t know what to do. I can’t imagine coming to his office wearing well fitting black jeans and a sleeveless shirt, and giving him my come hither look would work, and that’s pretty much the extent of my experience in gay interactions…”

“Well, I suppose it’s worth a try.”

“You are hilarious.”

“And you are being stupid! You are an attractive, intelligent, charming man. You could just talk to him.”

“And say what? Unspeakable Snape, sir, I know I have already apologized for being a twat all those years, but it seems every day I uncover new ways in which I was unfair to you. However, if you could overlook that, I think you are dead sexy, and I fantasize about doing you when I wank, so… how about it?”

“OK. Scratch intelligent from the description above. And just carry a torch for him for the rest of your life if that’s what you want. I wash my hands of you.”

“Don’t do that! Who’s going to be my shoulder to cry on through three months of Potions?”

“Oh, all right. Twist my arm. So what is it?”

“What is what?”

“You’re favorite fantasy about Snape…”

“Ginny! You pervert!”

“Oh, come on, give!”

“All right. It’s hot. He is washing cauldrons bend over the big sink, or getting ingredients from a low shelf or whatever, and without warning, I just step up behind him, yank down his trousers, and fuck the hell out of him. “

“That’s it?”

“It’s hot!”

“It’s boring. You better have a better one for me next time we talk, or I may have to resign as your fag hag…”

“You wouldn’t. You love me too much.”

“I do. Still. Work on it.”

“Pervert.”

“Unimaginative wanker.”

“See you.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

_Severus had not been particularly bothered at the idea of teaching Potions to the Crime Scene Investigation students. After all there were only three per class, it only lasted three months and these were students who had passed their NEWT in the subject. They also only had a dozen or so potions to master, and though these were delicate to manufacture, the qualified students should be up to the task._

_He received the list of attendees at the same time as the weekly schedule and the curriculum, a week ahead of the first class and did not pay it much attention. He concentrated on ordering supplies and deciding in which order he would cover the required topics._

_It wasn’t until the night before his first class that he realized that Harry Potter would be one of his students. Mixed feelings would be a good description of how he felt about it. There was curiosity of course, about what kind of a man the teenager had turned into. There was a bit of uneasiness at the thought of their complicated history. There was hope that they might move beyond the tension that had always colored their student-teacher relationship, and somewhere deeper, where he was trying to leave it unacknowledged, was the excitement of seeing a young man whom he had, during his seventh year at Hogwarts, started to find extremely attractive._

_Before entering the room he observed the students unnoticed for a few minutes. Romilda Vane had always been very lovely, with a pretty face, dimples and a glorious head of wavy chestnut hair. She was even prettier now that her face had lost some of the roundness of childhood. Boris Sidoff was not particularly noticeable, though Severus was interested in meeting him since the young man had demonstrated an affinity for Potions and had worked with one of the few Potions Masters whose company Severus could stomach._

_And there was Potter. Gone were the glasses (thankfully), and his hair was now very short, emphasizing his high cheekbones, arched eyebrows and sculpted lips. His eyes were vividly green, and his body, in a simple white undershirt and fitted jeans was… perfection: Narrow hips, flat belly, broad shoulders, with the ideal amount of muscles. Merlin. He was absolutely gorgeous._

_The three of them were joking around, obviously getting on very well. Potter was sitting on the back of his chair, his feet on the seat. All three of their Auror robes were piled on a desk. Sidoff was juggling with all three of their wands, bleu, green and red sparks emitted by the tips, a ridiculously dangerous trick if one did not know the wands well. None of them paid it any mind. Obviously it was not an uncommon activity. All three were laughing at something, probably teasing Vane, since she was hiding her face in her hands._

_He entered the room without warning and was very impressed by the speed of their reaction. All three robes went on, all three wands disappeared in the appropriate holsters, and by the time he has made it to the lectern, they all three stood virtually at attention._

_“Professor Snape!” cried Romilda, and he was glad he only heard surprise in her tone. He saluted all three of them. It was hard not to stare at Potter, and he could think of nothing to say to him that would not either awaken bad memories between them, or come across as a sexual come on._

_The first potions they were to work on was an Artifact Dating potion. It would determine how long organic residue had been present. It could be used for blood, semen, saliva, or even bits of flowers and grass. It was particularly important in the dating of old crime scene. He had chosen that particular one to start because it included many ingredients and techniques and was extremely finicky. It was meant as a refresher for sixth and seventh year potions and he did not expect that any of them would succeed at brewing it on the first try._

_He was correct. Sidoff made a mistake in the ingredients sequence putting in the powdered pansy root before the Egyptian clay, Vane in the preparation since she diced the liquorish root instead of chopping it and Potter in the stirring, not waiting long enough for the potion to cool before switching his stirring from clockwise to counterclockwise._

_Of all of them, Potter’s mistake was the least grievous and would not have mattered with many other potions, but how did one say that without sounding ridiculously condescending?_

_He therefore just stated their mistakes, explaining why their potions were worthless. They would not try that one again until the very end of the class. All three of them left the classroom subdued, and hopefully determined to review their 6th and 7th year material._

_Potter gave him a strange look as he was leaving and Severus did not know what to make of it._

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Harry had no problem at all with Magical Signature Identification. He enjoyed the sleuth-like work and deductive reasoning. Apparently, so did Romilda and Boris.

In Legilimency and Memory Modification, Boris was ahead of the game, since both were taught at Durmstrang.

Romilda was completely pathetic. Not only could she not do Legilimency, but anytime she tried, she would actually project some of her thoughts. Harry and Boris got to learn tidbits about her they could use to tease her with for years to come.

Harry was shocked that Legilimency came so easily to him. He did not have to work very hard at all to become highly proficient. Memory modification was just tedious. He could do it, and rather well, but he ended up with a nasty headache.

Then there were Potions.

It seemed his love and hate relationship with the topic would never end, nor would his love and hate relationship with its teacher.

“Mr. Sidoff, your Blood Identification potion is adequate. Yours, Miss Vane, is passable. You should review your ingredients preparation technique as it seems it is where your problems always occur. You would require an extremely large sample for this potion to work, so unless you improve, let us hope all the murder scenes you examine are blood baths.

“Mr. Potter, your potion is utterly useless. I take that back. You should be able to determine whether a substance is blood or tomato sauce, but I believe a normally developed olfactory system would provide you with the same information without the trouble of brewing an expensive and time consuming potion.

“You seem determine to negate your otherwise satisfactory efforts with your constantly flawed stirring technique. Sadly, no amount of reviewing will help, only practice. I am afraid you are in need of remedial brewing. You will remain today after class to set up a time with me.”

Harry was seething. Until the very last step, his potion had been absolutely perfect. Then Snape had gone around the room, checking everyone’s cauldron. He had stood behind Harry, and his scent, which Harry had to add to the things he found irresistible about the Potions Master, had filled his nostrils.

Bergamot? Verbena? Did Snape make his own soap? A hint of wood smoke. Snape must spend a lot of time reading by the fire. And behind that, a hint of the man himself. For a second Harry has pictured himself on a bed with a reclined naked Snape, his face over Snape’s crotch while giving him a blowjob, breathing in that heady scent.

Unsurprisingly, he had completely lost count of his number of clockwise stirs. Thinking he must have been fairly close to needing to switch, he had reversed the direction. “Not yet!” Snape’s warning, for which he truly was grateful, had not come soon enough to stop him. Snape must really think Harry was a moron, unable to count to sixty-seven. Instantly, his potion had gone from a limpid light green to a cloudy brown and he had known he had ruined it.

The time before, with the Bone Analysis potion, he had become absorbed in admiring Snape’s elegant white hand, as he waved his fingers through the steam of Romilda’s cauldron, apparently able to tell something about the potion from its quality. That time, he had stopped stirring altogether, lost in a fantasy of those long finger wrapped around his cock. By the time the scorch smell had recalled him to reality, it was much too late.

He had come back to the lab in the evening, both after the Artifact Dating potion mishap, and the Bone Dating one, and alone at the task, had brewed them both to perfection. He was quite sure he could do the same with the Blood Identification potion. But if he was to try to do so with Snape around, in a one on one session… He could think of a completely different one on one session he’d much rather have with Snape. Was he a top or a bottom? Though Harry was a top, he would happily take Snape either way, or even, if need be, both ways in turn. He wondered if…  
“…Mr. Potter?”

Romilda and Boris were packing their equipment, and Snape had evidently been speaking to him.

“I am sorry, sir. I was distracted.”

“Indeed. You seem to have the attention span of a three year old. How you manage in your other classes is beyond my comprehension. Do you think you can stay with me long enough to arrange a time for your det… remedial session?”  
Snape had almost said detention! If he only knew what activities Harry associated with that word…

“Any evening except for Wednesday, when we have Unspeakable Parcel’s class, would be fine, sir. Or possibly Thursday afternoon. But I do not wish to take up your free time. I would be happy to return on my own and make the potion anew. I can submit a sample to you the next day.“

“How very… thoughtful of you, Mr. Potter. However, your constant state of distraction could lead you to make a costly mistake. I do not wish for your classmates to have to use their newly acquired skills to analyze what would be left of your body after a laboratory explosion. Thursday afternoon will be fine, and you will , I am sure, be gratified to know it will in no way impinge upon my free time, as I will be working on my research as I… supervise your efforts.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Harry returned to the lab that night, and brewed the Blood Identification potion flawlessly. He added the sample to those of the previous two potions and went to bed, hoping to be able to concentrate on his brewing in two days time, with Snape around. He had the most marvelous wank imagining blowing Snape while he brewed, until Snape had to put his cauldron in stasis, unable to concentrate, and came down his throat saying ‘Harry, Harry, Harry!”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

_Severus had observed Potter while he brewed, wondering what could possibly cause him, three times in a row, to destroy an otherwise perfect brew by simply loosing his focus. He thought he had the answer. The young man had simply succumbed to the charms of the lovely Romilda, and was unable to concentrate in her presence. By isolating him and giving him a chance to brew away from the object of his affection, Severus was hoping to resolve the problem. He would hate to have to fail Potter, who was otherwise doing so well._

_He also admitted to himself that he was very much looking forward to having an excuse for directing his undivided attention to the man. In the past couple of weeks, he’d grown to appreciate him, and not only for his perfectly shaped ass. Potter demonstrated a poise, a self-assurance that was incredibly attractive. His overheard banter with his classmates revealed a deep intelligence and a great sense of humor. His control over is erstwhile ridiculous temper was complete and apparently effortless._

_Severus would enjoy the sight of that perfect body bend to the task, of Potter biting his lower lip in concentration as he was wont to do, and might possibly even find some excuse to engage him in conversation. He knew he was being absurd, but in a little more than two months, Potter would once again disappear from his life, and he intended to make the most of that short amount of time, to store pleasant memories for the future._

 

 

“I have to take remedial potions.”

“Please tell me you made a move on Snape, and that that’s what you both have decided to call your secret meetings…”

“Right, Gin. I wish… No. I have to actually take remedial potions. I can never concentrate in class, and I keep loosing count of my stirring.”

“Why the long face? It means you get to spend more time with Snape!”

“Why do you think I can’t concentrate in class Ginny?”

“Oh…”

“Explain to me how I am suppose to concentrate _better_ one on one with him?”

“You are so doomed, Harry!”

“I know.”

“When do you start?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Well, prepare yourself. I mean wank, like, three times before hand, and keep your mind on the potion!”

“Not a bad idea, that… You may be on to something.”

Because Harry never did things half way, he wanked four times Thursday before his remedial lesson, including once in the toilets immediately adjacent to Snape’s lab, ten minutes before he was due to go in. He stood with his shoulders against the wall of the stall, jerking off with one hand and caressing his stomach with the other, imagining Snape on his knees, his wicked mouth engulfing Harry’s cock in moist heat. Fuck, that was hot! He tried to keep it quiet, after all, who knew how well insolated the lab was from the bathroom, but Merlin! ...

It turned out the insulation between the two was more than adequate. Not so however the one between the stalls and the rest of the washroom.

_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
_Unspeakable Snape, who always moved as silently as a cat, entered the men’s restroom to empty his bladder. He would be brewing a rather time consuming and finicky potion for the next three hours, one which did not allow for any breaks, and needed to be prepared.  
  
After parting the front of his robes, he was unbuttoning his placket when he heard a rather heavy sigh issuing from behind one of the cubicles door.  
  
“Aahhh. Hmm, yeah, hmm…”  
  
His hand froze but his cock, apparently recognizing the nature of the sounds faster than his brain, twitched appreciatively.  
  
A rhythmic panting, an appreciative purr-like moan. “Oh, yeah…”  
  
Relieving himself was now the last thing on Severus’s mind. He fully intended to beat a hasty retreat and had already closed his fly again when he thought he heard… No. He had to be mistaken.  
  
“Oh, fuck! Snape…“  
  
No, he’d heard right. _ Someone _was saying his name while…  
  
“Oh, yeah! Oh… Snape, I want to come in your mouth, yes, yes, like that! Fuck, Severus, yeah! Ah…Ah…Ah…Aaaaaaah…”  
  
Someone had just come while fantasizing about getting a blowjob from him! His cock was very pleased. Him? Not so sure.  
  
One more second and he was out of the bathroom. He quickly walked to the lab, but stopped at the door. It was… flattering, wasn’t it? Hm. He smirked, hesitated an instant, but finally went in.  
  
Only to immediately give in to his curiosity, turning around and stepping out again, just in time to catch Harry Potter exiting the men’s room.  
  
The young Auror looked perfectly cool and collected. Severus called upon his infinite capacity to disassemble and pulled the lab door closed behind him, only then appearing to notice Potter.  
  
“Oh, Mr. Potter. Good. Please go in and set up. I won’t be a moment.” And he walked away, an important Unspeakable on a very important errand. As soon as he heard his lab door close behind Potter, he stopped and leaned against the wall, strangely out of breath.  
  
Potter? Harry Potter had just pleasured himself to images of his Potions Professor sucking him off? Severus was now so hard he could feel his heartbeat in his erect cock. Pushing off the wall, he made his way back into the restroom. He entered the stall Potter had been in, where the arousing scent of his cum lingered. He closed and locked the door, opened his robes, undid the buttons of his trousers, took himself in hand and, thinking of what had just happened in this small space, only had to pull on his cock a few times before he erupted all over his hand. _  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
Harry just about had a heart attack when he almost walked right into Snape coming out of the toilet where he had just wanked thinking about the man. He felt as if Snape could read exactly what he had been doing on his face.  
Thank Merlin Snape had obviously been in a hurry and had not paid him any attention. Before entering the lab, Harry watched him walk away for a moment, his black robes swirling behind his tall retreating silhouette. Snape was so… Guh.  
  
Oh, why did that man have such an effect on him? Four times! He had jerked off four times in one morning and still, just watching Snape’s walk away was making him hard again.  
  
Sighing in frustration, he entered the lab and closed the door behind him. There was no way he could do this, no way he would not make a complete ass of himself. Feeling doomed, he set everything out to brew the Blood Identification potion for the third time.  
  
When Snape returned, he took one look at Harry’s preparations and said, “Excellent. Proceed.”  
  
Harry was flabbergasted. Excellent? Wow! That was unexpected. Puzzled but pleased, he started on the potion base.  
  
Snape apparently was not planning on brewing. He was sitting at his desk, at the other end of the room, out of Harry’s direct line of vision, taking notes while reading. If he stayed where he was, Harry had a chance. He tried to forget the man’s presence and focus on his work. The fact that he had already brewed the potion twice was a tremendous help.  
  
When he reached the stage at which he had ruined his first attempt at the potion, he took extra care to concentrate. …Sixty-six, sixty seven, reverse and one, two, three… He reached twenty-three without faltering, and stopped. The potion was a deep emerald, just as described in the instructions. He decanted it and poured a sample into a vial.  
  
After cleaning up his working area, he turned in the direction of Snape’s desk only to meet the man’s eyes. Snape gave a little jump as if returning from a daydream and looked away. Harry approached the table.  
  
“Here it is, Professor.”  
  
Snape took the flask, shook it a little, opened it and smelled it. He fitted a vaporizer to the flask’s opening and sprayed what appeared to be a perfectly clean cloth. Minute bright red droplets appeared.  
  
“This potion negates fluid-cleaning charms. As you can see, properly brewed it is extremely sensitive. Well done, Mr. Potter. It seemed my theory was correct, that once the object of your infatuation was removed from sight, you were wholly capable of focusing on your task and create a perfect product.”  
  
Harry’s heart started beating double-time. Snape was aware of his all-consuming fascination with him! It was the reason for purposely staying away from Harry all afternoon, to allow him to concentrate! But Snape did not give Harry any indication of whether or not to act on his attraction. His indifferent mask did not reveal his feelings on the matter. Was he interested? Disgusted? Angry? Amused?  
  
Did Harry dare to hope? He had no clue.  
  
“You were right not to act hastily on your sentiments. Please do not take what I am about to say the wrong way…”  
Harry was utterly crushed. Snape was trying to let him down easy…  
  
“… but Miss Vane shows no sign of finding you unappealing. Perhaps you should pursue her and ask her out on a date? She is a very attractive young woman, however seeing her outside of class might allow you to better get on with your work.”  
  
Huh? What? Miss Vane? Oh shit! Snape thought Romilda was the object of his infatuation! He thought Harry was straight! Shit, shit, shit! He had to correct that misapprehension, right now, or he had no hope of ever evoking interest for himself from the man!  
  
He answered, “Though I would agree that Romilda is very beautiful, I certainly do not find her _attractive_ in any way. I am neither attracted to her nor to any woman, for that matter.” A moment of silence followed his declaration. His inner voice (which sounded remarkably like Ginny’s), took advantage of this lull in the conversation. ‘This is your chance, Harry! Tell him you’re attracted to _him_!’ Harry opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He closed it again. ‘You are such an idiot!’ said Ginny. She was right. He tried again.  
  
“I uh… I think you are, hmm…” Oh, Merlin! He just couldn’t say it! Shit! Now what? “I think you are… under the wrong impression, Professor. I have had a lot on my mind, but it has nothing to do with Romilda…”  
  
‘Oh, well done, Harry! Now he’s going to think you’re in love with Boris!’ Ginny remarked.  
  
He quickly added, “…or Boris. Or any of my classmates.” Shit. Imaginary Ginny was right. He was an idiot.  
  
“I seemed to have made the wrong assumption, Mr. Potter. Please accept my apology. Not wanting to repeat my mistake, I will just ask. Does your flawless performance today indicate you have resolved whatever issue was troubling you?”  
  
“Uh… No. Not quite. Hm. I, uh…”  
  
“Mr. Potter. I did not mean to pry. However I want you to know that if I can be of any help, any help at all, you have but to ask. I am invested in your success.”  
  
Did he mean his success with the program, or was he encouraging Harry to… Oh, great. Now he was reading double meanings in everything Snape said. Bloody hell! He really needed to get a grip. Snape was being awfully understanding, though. A far cry from his Hogwarts persona. Perhaps it was time for Harry to try not to act like a teenager every time he was in the man’s presence.  
  
“Thank you Professor. I should be the one to apologize for letting personal issues interfere with my education. I appreciate your understanding, but I feel confident I can handle the situation.”  
  
“Very good, Mr. Potter. Good day to you.”  
  
Harry nodded in response, turned around and left the laboratory. Once he had closed the door, he leaned forward on the lintel and repeatedly banged his head against the stone.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
“I totaly lost my nerve, Gin. I am completely pathetic.”  
  
“So I’m your inner voice?”  
  
“Oh, I see you immediately picked up the _important_ part of the story!”  
  
“Well, I think it’s pretty cool. And I don’t really want to comment on the rest. I really don’t think you want to hear what I think.”  
  
“Come on! I could use a little moral support here!”  
  
“Well, you had the perfect opening and you completely blew it. What can I say?”  
  
“Ginny, I have to be in his class for two more months! Do you know how awkward it would be if he turned me down? I don’t think I should make a move until the program is over.”  
  
“Congratulation, now you have the perfect excuse to procrastinate.”  
  
“Come on! That is a valid point and you know it!”  
  
“All right, all right. It is. So, what are you going to do now?”  
  
“Try not to flake out again in Potions, and finish the program without making a total ass of myself?”  
  
“That’s a good plan professionally, but on the personal front it is rather lacking, in my opinion.”  
  
“I do plan on starting to act like an adult around Snape, if that counts. If I ever have the guts to approach him, I’ll stand a better chance if he doesn’t think of me as a twelve year old.”  
  
“I couldn’t agree more. Perhaps you should go out this weekend and remind yourself how grown up you are. I’m pretty sure there is nothing like getting your cock sucked in the backroom and fucking a stranger against a wall for you to reconnect with your confident inner stud. It might help you get Snape off the pedestal you seem to have placed him on. He’s just a man, Harry. He occasionally burns his tongue with hot cocoa, bangs his head in open cupboard doors and he wakes up with bed head and sour breath, just like the rest of us. And I’m sure he wanks, too.”  
  
“Oh, thanks. I really needed to picture him wanking. That’s really going to help me in our next class.”  
  
“Well, think about it. Perhaps _he_ pictures _you_ wanking. You’re hot Harry. You make great fantasy material.”  
  
“Is that a confession?”  
  
“Oh, yeah, right. When I have the perfect specimen of manliness in my bed every night. Dream on, Harry.”  
  
“Pft! Draco has a pointy chin and his hair his thinning.”  
  
“And he has an nine-inch cock and a very agile tongue.”  
  
“… Hm… Nine inches while erect, right?”  
  
“Oh, for crying out loud! Obviously! I’m dating Draco, not _Firenze_!”  
  
“Just checking.”  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
_So… Potter was NOT straight, in love with Vane, and only picturing his Potion Professor in a rather submissive position to built up his self-confidence. Potter needed to wank before class so he could concentrate.  
  
Severus had thought (hoped?) it might be the case, and had been careful to stay out of sight all afternoon. Never mind that the position of his desk was the perfect vantage to ogle Potter unobserved. After the rather surprising events in the loo, he had needed time to think, not an activity he could engage in while brewing as violently reactive a potion as the one he was currently researching. He’d pretended to read instead.  
  
Potter was attracted to him, and apparently too… intimidated by him to do anything about it. It was interesting, considering he seemed to be very assertive in every other aspect of his life. Severus had rather enjoyed toying with him. He was quite sure Potter’s infatuation was a temporary aberration. Potter had too much going for him to actually fall in love with an unattractive, ill-tempered man twenty years his senior, with whom he shared a history of mutual loathing.  
  
But it would be fun while it lasted._   
  


_-_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
Harry decided to take Ginny’s advice to heart. There was something about clubbing and dragging a guy off the dance floor to the backroom that was ego boosting. And besides, he hadn’t had a good fuck since the break.  
He put on his favorite pick-up outfit (the aforementioned black jeans and black sleeveless shirt), and headed to “Midnight Whispers” the closest Muggle gay club to the Auror training facility.  
  
He had gone there enough times and was good looking enough for the bouncer to let him in without Harry having to wait in line. Once inside, the bass of the dancing music vibrating in his lungs, he took a deep grateful breath and smiled. Sweaty men, competing colognes, and the underlying scent of sex.  
  
He got himself a drink and facing the dance floor with his elbows resting on the bar, checked out the crowd of bodies moving to the beat under the flashing lights, some half naked, some very cute, some hot as hell and all of them men.  
  
A gorgeous bloke took him by the wrist, and with a come hither smile pulled him toward the dance floor. Harry liked his lean and tanned body, his long dark hair, his bright blue eyes and his sensual mouth. Grinning, he left his empty glass on the bar and followed him. The dance moves had not changed since his first foray into queer life and he soon he had a leg between his dance partner’s thighs and was grinding his hardening cock against the guy’s hip. Soon they were kissing as if they meant it and exploring each other’s necks with arousing bites and warm open-mouth kisses.  
  
It did not take very long for Harry to be aroused enough that he needed more. Wanting to be heard over the din, he shouted his offer next to his new mate’s ear, “I want to fuck you!”  
  
With a cocky grin, the man nodded, and holding hands so as not to be separated in the throng, they headed for the backroom’s entrance, next to the bar. There, the music was muted enough that you could hear moans, groans and the occasional, “Fuck!”, “Harder!”, “Oh, God!”, “Yes!”, as well as the slap of flesh meeting flesh.  
  
Harry loved being surrounded with men fucking and sucking, and breathing in the mingled scents of sweat, lube and sex. You only got that in Muggle clubs. Wizards did not fuck in public.  
  
After a few more minutes of the kissing and groping that passed for foreplay in backrooms, he turned the object of his lust against the wall, pulled down both their trousers, sheathed his cock in latex and lubed it generously. A dollop of lube on his entrance was all the preparation his companion got before Harry pushed into him, getting an enthusiastic and appreciative grunt in response. The backroom was no place for finesse.  
  
God, it felt so fucking good. Tight and hot and sleek, just what he needed. He was going deep and moving fast and closed his eyes to stop himself from coming too soon but was assaulted with images of Snape, which were no help at all. He slowed down his relentless rhythm a little, teasing his fuck’s prostate with the tip of his cock, getting delighted moans in response. To distract himself, he took in the arousing sight of horny men pleasuring each other.  
  
And that’s when he saw him.  
  
Less than ten feet away, leaning against the wall, was Severus Snape, his cock in someone’s mouth and staring straight at him. Oh, god… Harry groaned and licked his lips, completely powerless to break eye contact as the spasms of his partner’s climax brought him to the edge.  
  
The way Snape grabbed his own partner’s hair told Harry that he was there as well, and they reached completion together, staring in each other’s eyes. Harry came so hard it left him trembling. Closing his eyes, he rested his body on the back in front of him, catching his breath. After a couple of minutes, he pulled out slowly, took off the condom and dropped it in one of the bins. He pulled a couple of wet wipes from a handy dispenser, cleaned his cock, and tucked himself in, then pulled a few more and helped his partner tidy up a bit.  
  
“You’re very good. Come home with me?” said the guy.  
  
“Sorry, I’m meeting someone.”  
  
Looking disappointed, the man nodded, and Harry left.  
  
Snape was leaning against the bar, a bottle of beer in his hand, and another on a coaster next to him, a clear invitation. Harry joined him, picked up the waiting bottle of beer and they watched the dancing crowd for a while. Harry broke first.  
  
He looked at Snape. “So… you’re queer.”  
  
“A very astute observation,” the man replied, still looking at the dancers. He added, smirking, “Since you saw me come in someone’s mouth, I think it would be acceptable for you to call me by my given name.”  
  
Harry chuckled. “You don’t seem surprised to find me here.”  
  
“You are a young homosexual man, in need of relief. It was not difficult to guess where you would be on a Friday night.”  
  
“You knew I was gay?” said Harry, surprised.  
  
“Evidently.”  
  
“What gave it away?”  
  
Snape finally turned to look at Harry. “I heard you call out my name as you tossed off in the loo.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Indeed.” Snape raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Was it out of the ordinary, or is it a recurring habit?”  
  
Harry felt himself blushing. “Uh… The second one.”  
  
“Since you started the CSI program?”  
  
Though his cheeks were burning, Harry decided to throw caution to the wind. “Since my NEWT year at Hogwarts. I used to fantasized about fucking you on your desk.”  
  
“… A top, then?”  
  
“Always a top.” Harry figured he might as well make it clear.  
  
Snape smiled. “How serendipitous.”  
  
“What do you mean?” asked Harry, before taking a sip of his beer.  
  
“That I find serendipitously convenient that you should be a top whereas I enjoy taking it up the arse.”  
  
By the time Harry stopped coughing after his beer decided to go down the wrong way, Snape was gone.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
_Severus was still chuckling when he appeared at the Auror Training Center Apparation point. Getting a reaction out of Potter was so easy. First blushing, (Amusing, from a man who fucked strangers in public with such abandon), then almost choking himself with his drink. It was fun.  
  
He tried not to read too much in Potter’s confession of having fantasized about him for… Hmm… Five years? That _was_ quite a long time. Could it mean… He nipped that thought in the bud. Successful, gorgeous, popular young men did not engage in long term relationships with the likes of him.  
  
Potter might want to fuck Severus, but it did not mean he wanted to marry him. Still, it was something to look forward to. He felt a shiver of anticipation recalling what he had witnessed in the backroom. Potter in action was a thrill to watch, and he certainly appeared to know what he was about, if his partner’s utterance and facial expressions were to be believed.  
  
Now Severus had to give some thought to how he wanted to play this._   
  


_-_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
“He said what?”  
  
“You heard me. Don’t laugh, I almost drowned in my beer.”  
  
“Well, at least we know Draco was right.”  
  
“He certainly was.”  
  
“So… he sought you out, watched you come, and made an outrageous statement that is so bold, it doesn’t even qualify as an innuendo. I don’t think there is much room for interpretation. To be any more obvious, he would have had to hand you a condom and a tube of lube.”  
  
“I know. What do I do now?”  
  
“Let me think… Uh, perhaps JUMP HIS BONES?”  
  
“I don’t need sarcasm. I need advice. I have no clue how to handle it from here.”  
  
“Oh, Harry. You are so pathetic. Here is what you do: The first time you find yourself alone with the man, you lock the door and kiss the hell out of him. He does not appear to be the shy type. I’m pretty sure he’ll let you know what to do next.”  
  
“But what if he just want a one off? I don’t want just a one off. I’ve been in love with him forever. He is the most amazing man I know. I don’t just want to fuck him, I want to marry him! Stop laughing Ginny, I’m serious.”  
  
“Well, it might be a bit early yet to get down on one knee. Try both knees, first.”  
  
“You think you are so funny. Why am I even talking to you?”  
  
“Harry, before you start picking china patterns, just kiss him already. And then, take it one step at a time.”  
  
“You make it sound so easy. It’s so frustrating. I was a great Auror, I handled many difficult situations successfully. I’m generally independent, capable and confident, aren’t I? So why do I always feel like an idiot and act like a fool when I’m around him?”  
  
“Because you’re in love, silly.”  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
On Monday, Harry managed to concentrate on his Identification of Magical Signature class, and did very well on the practical. He spent the afternoon studying with his classmates and worked out in the early evening. Once he went to bed, though, he could not stop thinking about the next day’s Potions class.  
  
He imagined every situation possible, from Snape ignoring him completely, to Snape molesting him in the ingredient storage room. His mind continued on the same path after he fell asleep, well past midnight, and he had ridiculous dreams from which he woke up with his pyjama pants sticking to his crotch.  
  
As he showered, he reminded himself of his resolution to act like mature adult in his dealings with Snape. As he got dressed, he lectured himself soundly on self-control. By the time he entered the lab, he had managed to regain some modicum of self-confidence and peace of mind.  
  
Snape entered with his usual flourish, and for the first hour, lectured on the preparation and varied uses of Physical Evidence Preserving Potion. It was a lot of information to absorb, but it was interesting enough to make it painless. Then they got to the practical portion of the class and each assembled the necessary ingredients to brew the potion. So far, Snape had not singled out Harry in any way. As he had during their remedial session, he sat at his desk, out of sight, and Harry relaxed a little. He could do this.  
  
He brewed the base without mishaps, and started on the reactive ingredients. After forty minutes, as he was incorporating the crocodile tears by mixing them in the thickened brew with his glass stirring rod, he practically jumped out of his skin when Snape, who evidently was standing right behind him, started giving him advice.  
  
“Let’s see your technique, Mr. Potter. Loosen your hold on your rod, and keep your back and forth motions even and regular.” He was speaking softly, and Harry could feel his breath on the back of his neck. His melodious voice continued with his blatant innuendo.  
  
“You should never rush, when the results of a slow, methodical approach are so much more satisfactory. You might try changing your hold and placing your thumb on the tip of your rod to ease things along. Yes, like that. That’s good, very good.” Harry’s trousers were getting very tight. Snape was so close, Harry could feel the warmth of his body through their clothing, and catch his unique scent with every breath.  
  
“A little faster perhaps? Very nice. You are good at this. Have you been practicing lately? You should add the oil now. Careful, you would not want your rod to get too slippery. It might cause you to finish prematurely. We would not want that, would we…”  
  
Harry was both amused and exasperated. His erection would not be going down anytime soon. He discretely elbowed Snape in the ribs, which caused the man to chortle.  
  
“You seem a little on edge, Mr. Potter. Perhaps I could take hold of your rod and take over the repetitive motions while you relax? Do you need a break? A visit to the loo, perhaps, to release some tension?” and Snape stepped away to go take a look in Romilda’s cauldron.  
  
Harry, who had been close to finishing, could not remember what he needed to add next or how he was supposed to stir. Before he had time to regroup, his potion started to foam and, with a pop, it completely evaporated.  
  
He sighed in frustration, and sat down, massaging his temples. His classmates were done, and were cleaning up.  
“Don’t wait for me. I want to figure out where I went wrong,” he said. “I’ll see you at dinner.”  
  
As soon as they closed the door, Harry cast a locking charm, and looked up at Snape, who was leaning casually against the lectern, smirking at him.  
  
“It was hard enough to concentrate when you just walked around, but how am I suppose to ever get anything done if you purposely distract me?”  
  
“Mr. Potter, do you remember the advice I gave you when I thought your interest in Ms.Vane was the cause of your lack of attention?”  
  
“You mean I should pursue you and ask you on a date?” asked Harry, recalling that conversation.  
  
“Or perhaps you might do whatever is necessary to get your fascination with me out of your system…”  
  
Harry got up and went to stand near Snape. “That would take a lot, Severus. Perhaps more than you are willing to give.”  
  
Severus looked surprised. “That is highly unlikely. Do you mean to say that you desire more than a temporary arrangement?”  
  
Harry felt a surge of hope, and stepped closer. “I will take whatever you are willing to give for however long you are willing to give it.”  
  
Severus’s expression was both guarded and hopeful. “Perhaps you do not realize just how much I am willing to give, Harry.”  
  
Harry searched the dark gaze and saw all he had been hoping for. “I want it all, Severus.” He closed the distance between them and their bodies fit perfectly against one another. Severus smiled, kissed him and Apparated them to what Harry assumed was his bedroom, lit only by the fire in the grate and three tall candles in a chandelier on the bedside table. He really didn’t care where they were, as long as their clothes came off _now_ and provided that there was a bed for them to lie on.  
  
Making love was an amazing discovery. Harry had never done more than fuck, a quick and very pleasurable answer to his needs, but Severus showed him just how much more there was. Time slowed, and the moments stretched in exquisite sensations. Every caress spoke of love, every touch was a gift. When he finally moved against Severus’s relaxed body and pushed himself inside of him, loving the curve of his ass, the length of his back, the warmth of his glistening skin, the intensity of the pleasure was overshadowed by the intensity of his emotion. In all the way, he lay on top of his lover and listened, enthralled, to his sigh of pleasure. Kissing the back of his neck, he savored how the slow motions of his hips pushed him in and out of the body of the man he loved.  
  
“Oh, god, please Harry, more…”  
  
He raised himself on his arms and moved, finding his rhythm easily, going as deep as he could get, pulling almost all the way out and plunging again in the overwhelming pleasure. Severus pushed against him, seeking that perfect connection, and Harry fell into the abyss, his forehead resting between Severus shoulder blades, feeling the trembling of his lover’s muscles as Severus followed him to heaven.  
  
He was falling asleep in his lover’s embrace, his head on Severus’s chest, the long fingered hand carding through his hair, when it seemed suddenly important to say, “I love you, you know...”  
  
“Yes, I do.”  
  
Harry smiled against Severus’s skin, breathed deeply, and fell asleep.  
  
The end.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually had written another fic for Wonderluck, having missed that she hated top!Severus in her prompt. Not wanting to disappoint her, nor put the mods in a jam, I wrote this rather precipitously.  
> It is not as polished as I would have liked, but I thought it was pretty good for having been written in about five hours...  
> It was the second time I had to do this, and since then, I make VERY sure to read the prompts VERY thoroughly...


End file.
